


Lunch Notes

by 3rdgymmanager



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Futakuchi Kenji is a Little Shit, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgymmanager/pseuds/3rdgymmanager
Summary: After running into Futakuchi Kenji in a Saturday market, you talk about your time in Dateko. What secrets does Futakuchi have to unveil about your secret admirer who used to leave notes for you? Who could he be? Can an old friend help you find out?
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Lunch Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Futakuchi is just so fun to write for because he's an ass and I don't feel guilty messing around with him. I have a few heartfelt fics about him coming down the pipeline but enjoy this lighthearted fun fluff for now!

“Futakuchi? Is that you?” You instantly regret tapping him on the shoulder as he turns around to face you. 

You drop by Date’s weekend market with the intention of not running into anyone. You’re sweaty, and probably smelled like an outdoor grill. How is it that you have the gall to initiate this conversation?

“Long time no see!” he greets you. You are both in line for takoyaki. While the wait wasn’t too long, a small crowd of people are crammed beside the stall. “It’s been a couple of years.”

You move over to the same corner amidst the chaos of the market. 

“What are you doing now?” you ask, trying to subtly wipe yourself down. Futakuchi himself didn’t look too pristine. The day is warm and he looks like he just came off a volleyball game, but you would be lying if you don’t admit how good he still looks. 

“I went to trade school for a couple of years,” he shrugs, “I’m working in an energy company right now. What about you? You’re probably in college.” 

You nod your head, “Yeah, I am.”

You both receive your order and you both agree to spend lunch catching up. Futakuchi signals at an empty bench and you take a seat. 

You catch up on common friends and acquaintances and when conversation hits a pause, he takes a sharp inhale and straightens his back. 

“Do you remember the notes on your desks and notebooks?” 

During the last two years of high school, you would receive little notes every now and then carefully placed between your books, slipped inside your desk, snuck into your bag. You graduated not knowing who they were from exactly. You had a feeling you were finally about to find out. 

“Yeah, what about those?” You both receive your orders at the same time and he leads you to an empty bench where you both take your lunch. 

“I wrote them.” He tries to avert your gaze, but finds himself unable to. Instead, he tries to hide that he’s bracing for your reaction. 

Your chopsticks stop midway to your mouth, “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

You’re not completely shocked. You had a sneaking suspicion it was him. However whenever you tried to ask, he always flat out denied it, which frustrated you to no end. 

He shrugs, “I’m not sure you liked me. You probably thought I was mean and cocky and superficial which I was but still but it hurt that you did.”

You look at him with a small smile. Futakuchi was flippant and a relentless tease especially in his second year. His seniors thought he was a brat. Still, he was thoughtful when he wanted to be. He was also perceptive and clever. 

“I don’t get it….if you’ve already gone all the way to put notes, you might as well right?” you talked in between bites covering your mouth. 

Futakuchi chose a bench under the shade of a large tree. You could hear the birds chirp and the trees rustle. You stare at him while you wait for an answer. 

In an unusual show of vulnerability, he asks “Would you have said ‘yes’?” 

His voice lets slip a pinch of hope and suspense, a crack in his usual laid back demeanor. 

You shrug, “It depends when you asked? Probably not in our second year, maybe in our third year.”

“Because I got hotter?” he grins, sitting back with his arms folded across his chest. 

“I don’t think so.” You quickly shoot him down. He snorts in disbelief. 

“You got way more emphatic when we hit our third year. It was like you finally learned to care about others before your joy of annoying people. It was strange at first, but you really mellowed down and I liked that.“ You flash him a shy smile. He smirks. 

You wanted to sigh. He is definitely still cocky. 

“You could see it on the notes too. You used to only give compliments in our second year. When we became seniors, you started asking about my day…that kind of thing…”

“And you tried writing back!” he laughed.

You tried to develop a system where you’d put your replies where he first left his notes. It was a hit and miss endeavor. 

“You sometimes forget to pick them up.” you retort, crossing your arms and pouting at him. 

“Sorry,” he smiles with his lip tugging at one side, “It got more difficult to sneak around on our last year.”

“I also thought you deserved better than me even if I wanted you for myself. I wasn’t very good. I didn’t think you were sold just because I was captain.” he adds. 

“Nope,” you laugh a bit and shake your head, “Futakuchi, being captain has its perks and all, but don’t expect it to work on all the girls.”

“You didn’t like that I had a difficult time admitting when I was wrong too. It made me think that even if you agreed to go out with me, I’m not sure it would’ve worked. Like I said, you don’t deserve trash.” he sighs, in exasperation. He doesn’t sound resigned. He sounds frustrated with himself. 

Your conversation jumps from one topic to another topic. Before you end lunch, you head back to the takoyaki stall, hoping to take home a box. Futakuchi offers to wait in line for you so you can go around the market. When he returns with the food, he quickly bows out and leaves. You’re surprised by the sudden shift of his mood. 

Your instincts tell you to look at the paper bag that contained the takoyaki. Your hands ruffle to unfold the bag and sure enough there is a note inside, haphazardly placed on top of the box. 

“Would you go out with me?” it says, and at the bottom of the note is Futakuchi’s number. You impatiently dial the number and wait through the ringing. Is he intentionally drawing out the wait? 

When he finally picks up, you jump the chance to tell him off. “Futakuchi, you’re not in high school anymore. Can you drop the notes?” you sigh, inspecting his handwriting over and over again. Yup, it was Futakuchi who wrote you those notes. 

He pauses for a bit.

“Are you still in the market?” he asks urgently. 

“Yeah-“ before you reply, he hangs up. 

In a few minutes, a tousled, out of breath Futakuchi pants, running towards you. 

“Go out with me next week?” he brow quirks up, leaving the question to you. 

“Would you still consider yourself trash?” you playfully tease him. 

His cheeks flushes. Futakuchi is the type of person who liked to have the last word. It’s fun to see him speechless for once. 

“…Well, I ahhh…hey, I thought you said I mellowed down?” he exclaimed, slowly catching his breath. It was his to pout. 

“Then see you next week.” you kiss him on the cheek and wave goodbye.


End file.
